smoke and mirrors
by Lady Paprika
Summary: AU. When one of Marth's showgirls is brutally murdered, it's up to Zelda, a detective, to figure out the who and why behind it. This may be her most challenging case yet when her haunting past is thrust into the spotlight and it's all she can do to keep her wits. But nobody said it would be easy. After all, a magician never reveals his secrets. For ADSA's Suspenseful Contest.
1. Prologue

**I've wanted to write this kind of story for a pretty long time and so one day, while sitting through my brother's lengthy graduation, I just planned it out in my head. Initially this was supposed to be my submission for a horror contest, but due to time restraints and length, I wasn't able to. Fortunately for me, Archduke Artisan's Suspenseful Contest was being held with a lengthy extension, so I thought, why not? I wrote this prologue several weeks ago, and edited it to submit now as I will be out of the country in a few days time. Therefore, I won't be updating anything for awhile, much less this fic. I figured I just might get a headstart.**

**This is set in an AU. I shouldn't have to explain the setting as it should become apparent the more you read, but think of a time in the early 1900s, late 1800s in a heavily industrialized city. Hopefully this should become clear as you read it, but if not then just refer back here. Also, with the exception of the Pikachu, Pichu, Squirtle, Ivysaur and Charizard, all Brawl characters will be human regardless of whether they are in real life or not.  
**

**SOME OF THESE CHARACTERS ARE OOC DO NOT KILL ME.**

**This stuff is a little heavy and therefore not for the especially faint-hearted so viewer discretion is advised. I'd argue that in some cases, it toes the line of the T-rating.**

* * *

By the time my body was found, fourteen hours had passed.

To be exact, it was fourteen hours and twenty-one minutes, and if you counted my last desperate burble of air, twelve seconds since I had died. Nobody had been around in my final moments; my killer apparently decided that my last words weren't important enough to be heard. Once my death was ensured, my killer had whisked away into the evening leaving me neatly halved in two.

I could see the irony in this, of course. Sawing me in half, I mean. How many times had I climbed into this coffin as confident as can be, sure that the steel walls, nor saw would penetrate my skin? Of course it wouldn't, how could it, after I practiced the trick over and over again? The trick of it was of course, to be extremely flexible. A contortionist able to bend and fold into creating something that your eyes could not believe. Sometimes, the biggest tricks have the most simplest solutions. A true magician understands that in order to be one, you had to distract the audience and charm them into believing that what was onstage was truly magic.

Of course, there were always skeptics in the crowd but the point was to dress it up so thoroughly that even they would be tricked into trying to think of complicated solutions and machinery to explain the gap of air where my torso should be. Marth and I knew that all it took was a well-timed flourish or a perfectly placed mirror.

But this time, as the pain began to ebb away and the lightheadedness from the extreme blood loss began to settle in, I understood one thing. This was no trick, and I had nothing up my sleeves in that wretched coffin. I was dying and panic had never set in this deep.

After shows, people called me fearless. It was not uncommon for men to ask me to dinner because showgirls are often more attractive on the stage than they are in real life; it is our ability to smile and to preen onstage despite the odds that makes us desirable. These men would beg me to divulge Marth's secrets but I charmed the audience as best I could. "A magician is only as good as his secrets," I'd say with a wink. A cliché, to be sure.

But wasn't it true? Weren't we all just as good as the secrets we managed to conceal so thoroughly as we walked down these grimy streets? To give away a secret is to lose desirability. It was something I had seen on the stage over and over again, something I had witnessed with Marth. But it wasn't until my body began to undergo _rigor mortis_, my limbs becoming so brittle and stiff, that I realized how painfully true this was.

I was just Marth's showgirl before all this. I was just a pretty face holding secrets so thoroughly concealed, that nobody knew I carried them. A well-placed smile and a confident tilt of a chin was all it took to fool those around me.

But then, I was knocked into the box and when the lid slammed shut over my flailing arms and my desperate curses, I knew that all was lost. A small part of me understood, as the saw bit into my torso with its serrated edge, that the spotlight was on me because suddenly these secrets I held were thrust onstage, and they posed a challenge to the most level-headed of skeptics to figure out the trick, the secret, the cause of my death.

And it was strange how the challenger that took on the case was a woman whose voice I had not heard in many years. The last time I'd heard her, she had simply stared down at me, as though she could not really see me. Her eyes were almost bitter. Almost, because in that dim lighting, her blue eyes merely looked icy to the point of incontrollable madness. "I'll come back later," she had said tonelessly, but she hadn't been speaking to me at the time and I hadn't seen her again.

Funny, how she had fulfilled that promise seven years later, while I was lying in my own pool of congealing blood. But then, as a magician's top assistant, I also knew that there are no coincidences in life.

* * *

**For non-fans of first person, do not worry; this is only the prologue. Everything else will be written in the third person, with the exception of the epilogue. If it's not apparent whose narrating this, you'll know in the next chapter, so stick around**!

**Reviews are like crack to me (If I ever did crack, I imagine they would be at least...) so please review and make my day or you don't have to ;_; but I'd be happy if you did!**


	2. Just a Girl in a Coffin

_"Congratulations on the promotion, Mr. Avalon. Glad to see you continuing working with me. Lemme tell ya, NSPD definitely could use your tirelessness."_

_"Thanks, Captain. Really appreciate it. And I don't believe you've met my __fiancé, Ms. Hyrule?"_

_"I don't believe we've had the pleasure. I'm Captain Falcon, new head of the NSPD. I guess you're as lovely as Link keeps going on about you. Of course, you'd have to be, seeing how devoted he is to you."_

_"You are too kind, Mr. Falcon. I'm glad you have somebody like Link on your service. He is the most greatest man anybody could have. I count myself lucky."_

_"As do I."_

_"Darling, could you please get us some drinks, and check to see when the commencement begins? I wouldn't want to miss it."_

_"Of course, my love. I'll be back."_

_"Don't be gone too long, Zel."_

_"I can't promise that! There are so many interesting people to meet here. Tell you what, I'll meet you at the commencement. Sound good?"_

_"That sounds great. See you! __So what do you think, Captain?"_

_"I think she's as needy as I thought she was in the beginning. Beauty doesn't change that fact, Link. She needs to understand that you're an integral part of my police force. I can't have you checking up on her all the time."_

_"You still don't think highly of her, then?"_

_"It's not that. I just don't think she understands the demands of what it is to be a policeman. New Smash is riddled with crime. What the last Captain was doing here, I don't know, but this city needs to undergo serious change if it even wants to hope for even a normal crime rate. But I suppose Ms. Hyrule is a woman and it's not like the fairer sex usually understands a man's work such as ours."_

_"Zelda's different, believe me. She never asks me to spend time with her. I do it myself. She's got a level head, but she _needs_ me even if she never says it. Her life... well it's astonishing how normal she is after everything she's been through."_

_"Everybody has a difficult life, Link."_

_"This is different. Let me explain from the beginning..."_

≈Ω≈

_"I'll come back later."_

Zelda couldn't help but think of the way that sentence was said. She was in a rusty old cab that puttered through the rain-slicked streets and it was hard for her to think of anything else but that. Steam coated the windows, preventing her from getting a good look at New Smash City's cramped streets. She didn't need to look outside though. Zelda had been here for two weeks and she was already familiar with the towering skyscrapers, the grimy labyrinth-like streets and its residents who swiftly walked to their destination. It was as if they had no time to pause for a moment and appreciate the elusive grays and plain browns that shadowed the city.

"You seem on edge."

She did not respond and a moment later she felt a knee knocking against against her's, finally forcing her to acknowledge him. He held a warm smile, and his eyes reminded her of the sky on a rare but clear day in New Smash. Somehow, his eyes made blue seem like a warm color, but it was usually that smile that did the trick in cheering her up, in heating up her insides, making the line between her brow soften away into nonexistence. Not this time.

She smiled back uneasily. "Do I?" She knotted her fingers together for a moment so that she would not twist and untwist them. She didn't know where to begin, or even how. She weighed the two options carefully. She loathed to tell him the truth, but the only alternative to that was to lie and Zelda disliked _that_ idea even more. Link had never given her cause to withhold any information. He never got angry at her, even though sometimes he had every right to. Before she could talk herself out of it, Zelda began, "I told you that I knew the client once upon a time, didn't I?"

She felt Link's eyes on her, but she couldn't bring herself to look into his trusting eyes. He was a simple man with simple wants which was what made Zelda fall for him in the first place. There was something deeply comforting knowing that he hid nothing and was very easy to figure out. Complicated people burned her. "You told me he was your lover once."

Zelda dipped her head once in assent. "I didn't tell you why I ended it though, did I?" The cab hunkered to a stop, making her lean forward slightly due to the force the brakes had caused. She hated bringing up the past. It had never done her any favors and she knew that Link would grow uncomfortable at the mention of another man that had held her heart, the way he did the first time she had mentioned Marth. He would never say so of course, but his eyes were as clear as a pond and they reflected his thoughts easily. He was her fiancé, after all. To admit to having a lover was shocking enough, and the fact that Link had told her that he still loved her was more than Zelda could appreciate.

"You don't have to tell me why if you don't want to, Zelda." And though Link sounded courteous and civil, there was a barely distinguishable rasp to his voice that suggested he _did_ want to know a few details and was struggling not to let it show. It was that odd quality in his voice that made Zelda disregard the words and listen more to the tone. She knew he deserved to know the truth. He was, after all, a part of this case.

Much of that night, Zelda recalled, was hazy at this point. Years of grief that bordered on insanity made you do that, she reflected. But there were a few details she remembered. The damp, warm air of their apartment. A naked arm trailing the shaggy brown carpet, looking almost casual if it weren't for the stiff-like quality it had taken upon hearing Zelda's arrival. And dark, aloof eyes that had slammed into Zelda's so insolently indifferent that she forgot to feel.

She didn't know what else to say but_, "I'll come back later."_

And she never did.

Now, Zelda swallowed, unlacing her fingers, forcing them to behave and not squirm. It was now or never. "I caught him with another woman. The woman-"

But at that point, the cab driver interrupted them. "As long as you're in this car, and the gas is on, the meter's still runnin'. Hope you know that."

Link peered through his window. Zelda didn't know how he did it, because the steam against the window rendered her own vision opaque beyond the car, but Link seemed to see something further because he frowned slightly and said, "The place is still a block away! You expect us to run to our destination in this heat and rain?!"

"Not my problem," the disgruntled cab driver responded. "This'd be as far as I go. Place is haunted, it is."

Zelda furrowed her eyebrows together. "Haunted?"

"Girl was murdered there, wasn't she? You're tourists here, aren't you?"

Zelda and Link exchanged a quick look. Zelda didn't like to tell people she was a detective just as much as Link liked to inform people he was part of the police force. Oftentimes, people would clam up at the sight of a policeman, even if Link was off duty. For Zelda, the opposite was true. People opened up _too_ much. They would fudge up details or exaggerate normal instances that they were witness to. In the end, Zelda and Link mutually agreed not to tell anybody who wasn't in the friends and family category what their occupations were."We just moved here," Zelda finally said. It wasn't a lie. Link and Zelda were originally from Kakariko, a few cities away. But Link had gotten promoted and transferred to New Smash City. At the same time, he had proposed to Zelda, getting down on one knee at the public library that they'd met in. The ring was a family heirloom and it sparkled on Zelda's ring finger now, even now eliciting a soft smile from her.

"Figures," the cab driver muttered, dragging her back to the present. "Otherwise you wouldn't be stepping foot in that theater. We all call it the Brawl Ballroom 'cause it's got an unlucky history surrounding it. The owner disappeared within a week of its opening, and its owners since have always died gruesome deaths, whether from the pox, or from cancerous growths. Half the time shows debut in that theater, they either do badly, or something bad has to happen to the performers. You couldn't pay me enough to get close to that place."

"Thank you for the warning," Zelda said, cutting him off flatly. "This is close enough." She shoved a hand into her coat pocket to withdraw the required amount of money they owed. She thought about docking off pay because she wasn't fond of the rain. In New Smash City, the rain was usually hot and left the city in sticky humidity. But before she could make the decision, Link was already dropping a fistful of coins in the driver's lap.

Though Zelda mostly appreciated Link's chivalrous attitude towards her, it was times like this that she found it downright annoying. She worked for a living, didn't she? What did it matter who paid if they would be married soon? But as usual, Zelda said nothing, even as Link covered her head with his briefcase. Even still, by the time they crashed through the massive glass doors of the theater, both were thoroughly soaked.

_Great,_ Zelda thought to herself as they dripped all over the faded red carpet, _this is _exactly _how I wanted to meet Marth. Like a drowned cat._

They stood in the lobby of the once grand but faded space of the lobby. Everything was coated in peeling, muted gold paint and worn out red carpet. Above them, on the ceiling was a painting of a bluish angel with rainbow butterfly wings. In front of them were two massive staircases that spiraled up to the second floor of the theater, where all the box office seats were. She felt Link lean in close and place a soft, dry kiss on her nose. When he withdrew, he was chuckling. "You look cute."

In normal circumstances, Zelda supposed that she would have teased him back, but now she found herself more irritated. "Was that supposed to be a compliment?"

The words and tone all sounded snooty, and Zelda felt a burning sense of regret as soon as they left her mouth. She watched Link's face stiffen more in confusion than in hurt. _What is wrong with me? _

"I am more than sure that it was meant as a compliment," a voice, velvet as the night said. Zelda's cheeks burned as she turned around, knowing who it was already.

She steeled herself. She wasn't here to be friendly. "Marth," she said, "A pleasure," in a voice that suggested anything but.

The same cool, indifferent eyes regarded her as they once did seven years ago, when she had last seen them. He was wearing a smile that lit up his whole face, but the dark blue of his eyes. He raised his eyebrows, slightly at her tone. "I suppose time doesn't heal some wounds," he said.

Zelda felt a flash of irritation surge through her. _I'm over you, you abominable prick!_ But vaguely she wondered if she had thought that more in reassurance to herself than to him. "Don't think yourself so important in my life."

His smile became more subdued but it was still there. "I wouldn't dream of it. I'm grateful you came as a favor to an old friend."

Zelda forced herself to smile tightly. "Not just me and not as a favor. I'm doing it because it's my job. I'm sure you've met my fiancé, Link? He will be joining me on this case. He's part of the NSPD. They hired him just a few weeks ago, in fact."

She watched him carefully to see if her words had any affect on Marth, but instead his smile turned sardonic, as his eyes appraised Link. "Ah, the police. They were here gathering evidence just two days ago. Useless, as far as I'm concerned."

If Zelda thought Link would defend his line of work, she was wrong. Instead he offered his own quiet smile. "I believe that is why they hired me."

It was as if the ice had broken between the two men. For the first time Marth broke into a true smile, flashing just the barest hint of perfect, white teeth. "Well said, Mr...?"

"Avalon. But you may call me Link." Zelda could see the warmth flooding into his eyes again and felt her insides go tense. Link had asked her to call him Link two weeks after they had met. Marth achieved this in a few short words.

They couldn't possibly _like_ each other? What could Link see in Marth that she couldn't anymore? Perhaps, she thought to herself, he didn't know his true nature yet. One thing was for sure, Zelda thought. She cleared her throat, which made both men turn to her. "It would no doubt be pleasant to get acquainted with one another," she said in her same flat voice. "But I believe we have work to catch up on. I would like to see the room in which the murder occurred, as well as all files you have of your employees."

Marth brushed his cobalt hair away from his eyes as he regarded her. "But of course." And all at once his smile evolved into a devilish grin that made Zelda feel ever inch of wet cloth that clung to her skin. She swallowed and followed Marth down an unassuming wooden door to their left. She noted that he used a key to unlock it. This door probably led backstage.

Zelda soon realized her hypothesis was correct. The corridor that the door opened to was long and narrow with doors fitted throughout. "The room where we keep all our equipment is in that room," Marth said, gliding swiftly down the corridor. _Almost like royalty_, Zelda couldn't help but notice, the way she had when she first met him. Marth was fluid in his movements, and his grace Zelda was sure, would put many girls to shame. He stopped short at a slightly larger door at the end of the hall and used another key to open it.

"This is where she died," Marth said, swinging the door open and allowing Link and Zelda to go through first.

The props room was filled with equipment both seemingly mundane and mysterious. There was a huge table with decks of cards, brightly colored silk handkerchiefs all knotted together, top black hats and wands. In one corner there were sharp knives, saws, pokers, darts and arrows. A rack of glittering sequined costumes was in another corner. And in the back was...

"The coffin the murder occurred in," Marth said. His voice was quieter now, but otherwise his expression remained walled. He gestured at the wooden coffin. Zelda swallowed.

"I trust the NSPD took pictures and have evidence on hand?" Zelda heard Link ask.

"Yes, but pictures should take at least three days to develop. The cops said they dusted for fingerprints but they couldn't find any tell-tale ones. They found a few clear ones of her's that they felt might have been part of the struggle. Before the murderer, y'know... sawed her in half. Some smudged ones that could have been my employees from days ago. And mine."

Zelda frowned at this, an expression that did not go undetected by Marth. "You misunderstand. She is - _was_ - my main showgirl. She was the one who I sawed in half in all of my performances."

"I see."

"That's all she ever was. Just a girl in the coffin."

"You don't need to elaborate." The words were wooden to Zelda, yet she said them anyway. It was a bad idea to be here. A very bad idea.

"Am I missing something here?" Link asked, walking between them.

_Yes,_ Zelda said. _I tried to tell you earlier, Link. I can't do this. It's not right. This is bad. Very bad._

"You didn't tell him?" Marth asked, and though the words were said without any judgment in them, Zelda felt a burning shame crawling up her insides.

"I was getting to it," Zelda whispered, not looking at Link. It would have been a lot easier if she'd told Link before Marth physically came into the picture. But now, she supposed it couldn't be helped. Link, the love of her life, was waiting for her. His eyes were still trusting and as she turned to look at him she suddenly felt a thrill of fear looking at him. She stared at him for a long time, trying to memorize the way his eyes felt when they gave into her so wholly, so willingly. What if she never saw it again? Finally, she spoke.

"The reason why I left Marth," she said slowly, thinking back seven years ago. "Was because I caught him in bed with Nana Glace. The same girl who incidentally," and here she turned to face the coffin, feeling Link's eyes on her, but she couldn't bring herself to meet him anymore. "Was murdered. Just a girl in a coffin."

≈Ω≈

**Sorry for taking such a huge time to update. I suck, I know. I was on vacation for quite some time and needed a fair amount of time to get adjusted to reality and school which just began. Things such as Tumblr and Fire Emblem: Awakening have also eaten at my life. Also, I'm busy typing up contest results, so if you're reading this and you participated in it, please do not panic! I haven't forgotten about it, it's just... taking a while. I had some really great entries and I'm crying because I keep changing my mind about the results.**

**Additionally, if this chapter is riddled with errors, please do not hesitate to tell me. I haven't had a chance to really look over it, because I want to get this all in before the deadline's over. I will of course, go back once I'm finished with _smoke and mirrors_ to correct all major and minor mistakes, and delete these cumbersome Author's Notes, but because I'm on a really tight schedule and I'm going at a really slow pace considering the length of this story and the deadline, I'm placing speed over quality, for now. **

**As always, I cannot stress how grateful I'd feel if you reviewed and told me what you thought. They are like several choice addictive substances I've never tried before, but would probably get addicted to anyway. With that said, til next time (which I hope is soon, and after the contest results are out!)**


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